


in the garden of destiny

by shortcircuitify



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon, Reunions, Secret Children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-07 00:52:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14659803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shortcircuitify/pseuds/shortcircuitify
Summary: After many years, Blackwall returns to Antiva.





	in the garden of destiny

Josephine’s house was different than he would imagine it to be. He had always pictured a decadent manor, rimmed with gold (and not simply because she wore it constantly, but because he knew for a fact that merigold’s were her favorite flower) and topped with every possible shitty statue imaginable.

Perhaps he should have known better, by now.

Instead it was small, made mostly of red clay and painted with various shades of blue and yellow. Much different than the villas of Orlais, which he was thankful for, and he liked it quite a bit. It was still large, but not ostentatious, and very much _Josephine._ He felt the same welling in his heart as he did all those years ago, when he first saw her flitting around with her hands balled into nervous fists and her hair sticking in all manner of directions, looking for the _Maker-forsaken missives that were just here!_

A small smile flitting against his lips at the memory, before he felt the heavy weight on his shoulders, and sighed, deep like the wind blowing through the mountains. That was all in the past now. He was old, he felt it, more than he had ever felt it before, and now, all he wished to do was to make amends.

He took a step forward, through the villa’s open archway to a garden surrounded on all sides by red clay walls. It was beautiful, filled with flowers even he didn’t know the names to, despite his weary travels.

Would it be rude, he wondered, if he sat there just a moment? Cowardly, perhaps, prolonging a meeting long overdue – one that Josephine probably would not even consider, the way he had left everything – but he had not felt this calm in a long time.

He was shaken from his thoughts by a little girl, waving from one of the large open windows of what he assumed was the estate’s foyer. A warm breeze flew into the home, wafting the

“Hello, there!” she called, her accent thick. She couldn’t have been older than eight or nine, and she seemed very enthusiastic about waving him over to the window, “Are you here about mommy’s new trade deal?”

 _Sounds like she finally got her sister into the family business,_ Blackwall mused, unsurprised by Josephine’s will. Equally unsurprised that Yvette already had a daughter as well. He assumed.

“Not, I’m not actually.”

“Oh,” she contemplated him, very seriously for a long moment, “Well… mommy doesn’t want me to talk to strangers but you look really nice!” She elaborated once he came closer, matter-of-factly, and a small smile crinkled his eyes.

She examined him a moment, her hands balled into fists under her chin against the sill of the window, eyes bright and blue and curious. Blackwall raised an eyebrow. _Was_ this Yvette’s daughter? Or perhaps one of Josephine’s brother’s children? Her eyes were a little too serious to be Yvette’s daughter. Blackwall had only met the younger women briefly, at Halamshiral, but he doubted she could pull such a grave pout if she tried.

Maybe she could direct him to the woman he was looking for, as she seemed so eager for his presence, her eyes studying him as if he were a specimen to be examined. Or maybe he just happened to be more interesting than the lazy Antivan afternoon.

His heart began to pound nervously. His memory was fading, too, probably due to the poor diet he had on the road, he admitted, but he liked to think that he remembered her face as well as he could. Thought about her every night as he slept under the stars or the trees, the shape of her nose, the line of her smile, and…

“May I ask what you are doing here?” She sounded like a little diplomat, manners and all, and Blackwall couldn’t help the chuckle that rumbled deep in his throat. The girl was adorable, and she blinked up at him with those large, dewy eyes, waiting for his answer.

“Well,” he began, his lips turning down as he thought once again of the last time he had seen Josephine, sleeping at his side, the mild Orlesian sun just beginning to poke its head through the window of her room, “I’m here to… apologize to somebody.”

“Ooooh,” the little girl sat up on her haunches at that, as if they were sharing secrets between the open window and she had to get as close to him as possible to whisper, “Are you in trouble?”

He nodded his head, “Perhaps a tad.”

She began bouncing up and down, excited to hear more about how he was in _so much_ deep shit, “What did you do? Why are you in trouble?”

He frowned, old aches beginning in his heart and moving into his old joints, “I left when I shouldn’t have.”

“Oh,” obviously that was a less than exciting answer, and the little girl sat back down. There was a pause, and then with renewed interest she asked, “What’s your name?”

He kneeled down so that he was about the same height as the window sill the girl was perched on, their eyes almost even. Her eyes were so clear, like the evening sky, and he wondered why her smile seemed so familiar.

He paused a moment, and then, “Thom.”

“Thom,” the name sounded funny on her tongue, like her mouth was stuffed with cotton while she said it, but she repeated it over and over anyway, “What a funny name. My name is Yves.”

Yes, it must be Yvette’s daughter. Only she would be narcissistic enough to name her daughter after herself.

He stuck his hand through the open frame of the window, and she shook it with all the enthusiasm of a young child. Her hand was small enough to fit in his entire palm. His hand ached afterwards, “It is very nice to meet you, Yves. Would you happen to know where I could find one Miss Josephine?”

Her eyes lit up, “Yes I can! Mommy’s at the market right now, but she should be home soon. That’s why I’m keeping watch for the people she has to meet, you see, my job is very important because…”

She ran from the window to open the large door of the villa for him.

And then she was gone, and Blackwall was left kneeling in the grass of an Antivan courtyard.

**Author's Note:**

> For now, this will be all as I quite like the open ending of it. But I may return to this, as I absolutely adore this pairing and they need justice.


End file.
